


What if?

by ellalightwood



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, Mostly fluff because I WANT HARRY TO HAVE A HAPPY CHILDHOOD DAMMIT, Sirius Black Never Went to Azkaban, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin Raise Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:22:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22257136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellalightwood/pseuds/ellalightwood
Summary: On the night of October 31st, 1981, James and Lily Potter are murdered by Lord Voldemort. Their infant son survives with a lightning bolt scar on his forehead. But this time, the events that follow are a little different. Sirius is the first on the scene, deciding to stay with Harry instead of running off to find Pettigrew. As a result, he is never arrested for Pettigrew's death and the Aurors are sent after the right man. Together, Sirius and Remus decide to raise Harry themselves instead of leaving him to suffer at the hands of the Dursleys.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 14
Kudos: 319





	1. Chapter 1

Sirius Black stood in front of the wreckage of Lily and James’s house with his godson cradled against his chest. All around him Aurors were swarming, searching the inside and the outside of the house. Some had gone to the neighbouring houses to search there, too; Sirius saw the small, frail figure of Bathilda Bagshot, standing on her porch in a nightgown and slippers as two Aurors fired questions at her. Sirius felt a bit lost, unsure what to do or how to help; none of the Aurors were consulting him, or even acknowledging his existence. After he’d arrived at the Potters’ house and alerted them and Dumbledore, they had all swooped down on the house in a matter of minutes, brushing past him as though he was part of the furniture.

 _Remus, where are you?_ In the confusion and horror of the aftermath of Voldemort’s attack, he wanted nothing more than to lay his head on Remus’s shoulder and weep. James was dead. Lily was dead. And Harry, little Harry, with his father’s hair and his mother’s eyes and a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead, was an orphan. It wasn’t fair. Why did the worst things always happen to the best people? He kissed the top of Harry’s head, feeling tears prick at his eyes. It was Peter, the slimy, lying, dirty little rat. Peter had told Voldemort where to find the Potters, Peter had been working for him this whole time. Peter, who James had considered a brother. Peter, who had been at the wedding, who had been one of the first to hold Harry when he was born, who had been part of their little family, one of the four inseparable and undefeatable Marauders. If Sirius wasn’t currently holding a sleeping baby, he would have punched something. 

He’d wanted to hunt the bastard down the moment he realised his betrayal, rage sizzling in his veins as he paced the Potters’ living room with Harry in his arms and James’s corpse only a few feet away. But he couldn’t, he knew that now. Harry needed him. He was Harry’s godfather; it was his duty to look after the boy if anything happened to his parents. If not him, then who? The Dursleys? He snorted; he’d never met Lily’s sister or her husband, but from what James had told him, they were the two vilest, most unpleasant people you could ever have the misfortune to meet. There was no way he’d let his godson within fifty feet of them. No; Harry would stay with him, they’d find somewhere to stay where he would be safe and happy, and Sirius would hex anyone who tried to stop them.

“I have notified Alastor of what you said,” Dumbledore said quietly from behind him. “He is taking a team of Aurors to search for Peter Pettigrew now.” 

Sirius turned to face his old Headmaster. Dumbledore looked remarkably calm, given the situation; Sirius wasn’t sure if it was because the older wizard was so old that nothing could shock or upset him anymore, or because Dumbledore was simply better at hiding his distress. “Thanks,” Sirius said, his voice coming out hoarse. He looked down at Harry again. “Guess I’ll be taking Harry, then?”

Dumbledore paused before replying. “Well,” he said. “I was planning to take Harry to his aunt and uncle’s, for his protection—”

“He’ll _have_ protection,” Sirius argued, softly so as not to wake Harry. “ _I’ll_ protect him; I’m his godfather. He’ll be safe, I swear it, safe with me and – me and Moony,” he finished, spotting Remus hurrying towards them over Dumbledore’s shoulder. 

Remus ran to them, looking dishevelled and out of breath, his face pale and lined with worry. “Sirius! I got your message, I came as quickly as I could, I – is everything alright – is Harry?” he panted, looking frantically between Sirius and Dumbledore. “James – Lily – they’re really…?”

“Dead,” Sirius said, the word sounding blunt and harsh to his ears. _Lily and James, dead_. He’d seen their bodies himself, cold and white, their eyes staring at nothing, James’s head at an odd angle – and yet it still didn’t seem real. “Dead” and “Lily and James” were two things that just didn’t go together. It was implausible. Impossible. Inconceivable. He half expected Dumbledore to shout _“Ha! Gotcha!”_ and Lily and James to run out of the gaping doorway of the house, alive and laughing, explaining that it had all been some colossal joke. He could almost hear James guffawing, _“I can’t believe you fell for that, Padfoot!”_

But, of course, that would never happen. He saw a cluster of Aurors by the door, two stretchers being carried down the front path, bearing what he knew were Lily and James’s bodies covered by white sheets. He turned away from the sight, feeling a lump in his throat.

Remus’s gaze drifted to Harry’s forehead, fixing on the lightning scar, and he blinked rapidly, taking a shuddering breath and rubbing a hand over his face. Silently, Sirius shifted Harry to one arm, using the other to pull Remus to him and hold him close, feeling Remus’s shoulders shaking. _I’ll keep them safe_ , he thought, thinking of Lily’s body in the nursery with her fingers still clinging to the bars of Harry’s cot, thinking of James slumped, lifeless, on the stairs with his glasses askew. _James, Lily, wherever you are, I swear I’ll keep Harry safe, and Remus too._ Harry wriggled in his arms, and he and Remus moved apart as the little boy blinked his big green eyes up at them. 

“Hello, Harry,” Remus whispered. He managed a smile as Harry cooed in recognition and grabbed his finger with a tiny fist. Sirius saw Dumbledore moving away, perhaps to give them some space. 

“Mama?” Harry asked, and Sirius’s heart shattered into a million pieces. Remus’s smile vanished.

“Mama and Dada aren’t here right now, Harry,” Sirius said gently. “But we’re going to look after you now, okay? You’ll have Uncle Moony and Uncle Padfoot. We’re not going anywhere, I promise.”

“We?” Remus sounded surprised, though Sirius couldn’t imagine why.

Sirius looked up at him. “Obviously,” he replied. “You’re as much his family as I am, or as his parents are. Were. I thought – you should be there for him, too. If you want.”

“Of – of course.” Remus smiled again, a real smile this time that lit up his tired, grief-stricken face. “Where else would I be?”


	2. Chapter 2

Dumbledore wasn’t initially pleased at Sirius and Remus foiling his plan to have Harry sent to the Dursleys, but he eventually relented. Sirius and Remus now lived with Harry in the small flat they’d rented after Sirius had moved out of James’s parents’ house. The flat had gone through a major makeover since they’d brought Harry home; it was now thoroughly childproofed, and the spare bedroom had been transformed into a nursery for Harry, complete with an absolute mountain of toys (some new, some salvaged from Godric’s Hollow), and a bookshelf stuffed with picture books (“He can’t even read yet, Remus,” Sirius had said with fond exasperation). 

The mantelpiece in the living room was slowly filling up with pictures of Harry, some of them from the days when James and Lily had been alive, an increasing number of them from the days, weeks and months after that terrible night in Godric’s Hollow. One of Sirius’s favourites was one he’d taken himself a few weeks ago – it was of Remus snoozing on the sofa in the living room, one arm curved protectively around Harry on his lap, Harry clutching a fistful of Remus’s worn grey jumper as he slept. Every room in the flat held signs that a baby lived there; the bath toys and baby shampoo in the bathroom, the high chair at the kitchen table and the photos of Harry stuck to the fridge, the playpen in the living room and the tiny baby-sized shoes lined up on the shoe rack in the hallway. 

Having a baby was wonderful, and beautiful, and terrifying. Harry was their entire responsibility now, the one their world revolved around, the most important and precious member of their little household. Sirius remembered first holding Harry, when he’d been born, and being terrified that he might accidentally drop him since he was so tiny and fragile. This was like that feeling, but multiplied by a thousand. For the first few nights, he’d hardly been able to sleep, his mind racing with fears about what might happen to Harry if he took his eyes off him for more than ten seconds. Harry was his now, his and Remus’s. _We won’t let you down_ , Sirius silently promised James and Lily. He’d sworn to protect Harry, the day Lily and James had named him godfather, and he wasn’t backing out of that promise.  
Sirius had also discovered, much to his delight, that there was absolutely nothing better than being greeted by the sight of his boyfriend and his godson standing over his and Remus’s bed with equally adorable grins. It was Christmas Day, and sunlight streamed through the blinds, illuminating a currently shirtless Remus and a giggling Harry in his arms. Harry was wearing pyjamas with little Golden Snitches on them, a gift from Sirius’s cousin Andromeda. 

“Merry Christmas, love,” Remus said, bending down to give Sirius a kiss. “I’ve just fed Harry.”

“Excellent. Time for presents, then?” Sirius sat up and smiled as Harry eagerly held out his hands, taking him from Remus and bouncing him gently on his lap. “Shall we go see what Santa brought us, Harry?”

Harry babbled happily, which Sirius took for agreement. Over by the wardrobe, Remus was pulling on a long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans. Sirius pulled on a dressing gown and walked through to the living room, where the Christmas tree stood glittering with baubles and pulsating fairy lights, a pile of presents in shiny red and green wrapping paper beneath it. Harry had “helped” them decorate the tree when they’d put it up – his idea of “helping” mostly consisted of putting the tinsel in his mouth and throwing baubles across the room, but it was cute nonetheless. 

It would be Harry’s second Christmas, and his first without his parents. Sirius felt the absence of James and Lily like a gaping wound that he wasn’t sure would ever fully heal, but he was determined not to let their absence put a damper on this year’s Christmas party. There would be music and laughter and dancing, presents and exploding Christmas crackers and a banquet to put Hogwarts’ Christmas feasts to shame. Andromeda was coming, with Ted and little Nymphadora. Augusta Longbottom had said she’d bring Neville; Alice and Frank had been friends of theirs at school, and Neville had been born only a day before Harry. Hagrid was coming, and Emmeline Vance, and Hestia Jones and Dedalus Diggle, and the Weasleys with their seven children; going over the guest list in his head, Sirius conceded that he might have gone a bit overboard. He certainly wasn’t sure how Hagrid was going to fit his massive bulk inside their tiny apartment, but they’d figure something out. 

Once they were all settled on the sofa, Remus started handing out presents. Most of them were labelled To Harry, and he piled them up on the sofa. Soon they were surrounded by a cloud of shiny wrapping paper and various toys and clothes littered the floor. Sirius had bought a onesie in the Gryffindor colours, a golden lion on the front and “GRYFFINDOR” spelt out in gold letters on the back, because _of course_ James and Lily’s son would be a Gryffindor when he started Hogwarts. There was a new book – Happy the Hungry Hippogriff – and a Hippogriff toy to go with it. One toy’s label proclaimed it to be the Jiving Jarvey, a thing resembling a ferret which was almost the same size as Harry and which rocked rhythmically from side to side on its hind legs to a repetitive, jaunty tune when squeezed. Sirius suspected within a week he would be banging his head against the wall in despair as the tune played incessantly in his brain. He also suspected that Remus had bought it for precisely this reason. 

“You’re horrible,” Sirius grumbled at Remus as Harry laughed and the Jiving Jarvey danced. 

Remus smiled, pecking him on the cheek and dropping a neatly-wrapped present into his lap. “Love you too, darling.”

Unable to resist smiling back at him, Sirius carefully unwrapped the present, tossing the wrapping paper safely out of reach of Harry’s inquisitive hands. The first thing he found was a new leather jacket, which he tried on and exclaimed over, and a mug that said World’s Best Dogfather. Then Remus got up and rummaged under the tree, picking out a small box wrapped in red and gold paper. Before Sirius could take it, however, Remus unwrapped it himself, revealing the box itself, which was black leather. 

Sirius knew what it was before Remus had even got down on one knee, and he watched, speechless, his heart fluttering in his chest.   
Remus flipped open the box. A thin golden band glittered within, set with a ruby circled by diamonds. “Sirius,” he said softly, gazing up at him. “Will you marry me?”  
Harry and the Jiving Jarvey had fallen silent, and Harry was looking between Sirius and Remus with wide, curious eyes. 

Sirius took a deep breath, and laughed shakily. “Well, this is going to make my present to you look really stupid,” he said, shaking his head and grinning. He got down on the floor and pulled Moony towards him, the two of them entwined in each other as they kissed. “Yes, yes, of course, yes,” Sirius murmured between kisses, and Remus laughed as he slipped the ring onto Sirius’s finger. When they finally disentangled themselves, Harry had lost interest in them and gone back to hugging the Jiving Jarvey as it danced. Sirius felt breathless and light, his fingers laced through Remus’s as he leaned against him.

“You know,” Sirius said, “this means I can finally drop my family name. Sirius Lupin has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

“It does,” Remus agreed, kissing Sirius’s knuckles. The clock on the mantelpiece chimed loudly, making them jump. “Guess we should go get ready for the ten million guests you invited today, huh?”

“Hmm.” Sirius wrapped his arms around Remus again, going in for another kiss. “They can wait ten more minutes.”

***

The Weasleys arrived first. Eleven-year-old Bill and nine-year-old Charlie bickering good-naturedly, Percy carrying himself with an air of self-importance Sirius thought was quite hilarious coming from a five-year-old, Molly and Arthur holding their three-year-old twins Fred and George firmly by the hand lest they escape and wreak havoc, and the two babies in their prams – Ron, who was a few months older than Harry, and four-month-old Ginny. 

Ron was quite happy to sit in the large playpen with Harry, and the two of them seemed to get on well, babbling to each other as Remus made tea for Molly and Arthur in the living room and Sirius showed off his engagement ring. Sirius and Remus were wearing the gaudiest Christmas jumpers they could find – Sirius’s one had fairy lights that lit up and trilled “God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriffs” at regular intervals. The Weasleys were all wearing knitted jumpers in different colours, each with the initial of the corresponding family member – B for Bill, C for Charlie, P for Percy and so on. Fred had told Sirius solemnly that the P on Percy’s jumper stood for “Poopy-head.”

“I make them every Christmas,” Molly explained after sternly reprimanding Fred. “It’s a little Weasley family tradition.”

Andromeda, Ted and Nymphadora arrived moments later. Nymphadora was Charlie’s age, which delighted the older two Weasley boys, to have someone closer to their own age to play with. Sirius made the mistake of calling her Nymphadora, which made her scowl and her hair turn redder than the Weasleys’. 

“She wants to be called _Tonks_ now, Tonks or Dora,” Andromeda told him with a fond eyeroll, watching Charlie show Dora the little model dragons he’d got for Christmas.

Across the room, Arthur was eagerly firing question after question at Ted, who was Muggleborn – it was a fact widely known and often joked about that Arthur Weasley was obsessed with Muggles. He had somehow convinced Molly that it would be a fun adventure to drive to Sirius and Remus’s in the new Ford Anglia he’d rescued from a scrapyard; according to Molly, the ride had made her feel sick, and they’d almost died three times. Arthur assured them that his wife was exaggerating and that the ride had gone very smoothly, although Remus had apparently seen him crash into a lamppost and knock over several bins when he was trying to park outside the flat.

The formidable Augusta Longbottom was next to arrive, with plump little Neville, who was duly cooed over and introduced to Ron and Harry. They had just come from St Mungo’s, visiting Neville’s parents, which explained the lingering sadness in Augusta’s eyes.  
“How are they?” Molly asked in a hushed tone.

Augusta sighed. “The same,” she said heavily. “They were just lying in their beds, hardly seemed to notice we were there. The Healers aren’t sure if they’ll ever recover, but…” she took a deep breath, and Molly reached over to take her hand comfortingly. “They told me to visit as often as I can, that maybe, even if they don’t ever remember who I am or who Neville is, they might gradually begin to recognise us from our visits.” 

Sirius felt a twist of anger in his gut. It was Bellatrix who had tortured the Longbottoms. Bellatrix, his cousin, Andromeda’s sister. She’d been caught and sentenced to Azkaban along with her husband and brother-in-law and old Barty Crouch’s son, where he hoped she’d rot for the rest of her miserable life. 

_Right, time to lighten the mood_. He flicked his wand at the Wizarding Wireless in the corner of the room, which began to play Celestina Warbeck, just as the doorbell rang and more guests poured into the flat, shouting “Merry Christmas!” and demanding to see Harry. Hagrid managed to squeeze in, and he’d brought Dumbledore and McGonagall. The remaining members of the Order buzzed around, filling the place with light and laughter, just as Sirius had intended. As they all gathered around the dinner table, and Hestia Jones fussed over Harry, Dedalus and Emmeline clamouring for their turn to hold him, Fred and George flicking peas at Percy while Molly scolded and Ron laughed, Sirius and Remus congratulated themselves on a very successful Christmas. 


End file.
